What's up faithful readers. First off I'd like to thank the readers and followers who have been following this story, and sorry about the confusion. Second, the next two-ish chapters are gonna be flash back of what the Lone Wanderer did. I apologize once again, and I thank you for your support and reviews.
War. War never changes. Since the dawn of human kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything, from God to simple, psychotic rage.
In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation. But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. For man had succeeded in destroying the world - but war, war never changes.
In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters, known as vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them - all except those in Vault 101. For on the fateful day, when fire rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Vault 101 slid closed... and never reopened. It was here you were born. It is here you will die. Because, in Vault 101: no one ever enters and no one ever leaves.
During the corse of 2277 to 2278, the fable Lone Wanderer was the only person to leave. From there, the Wasteland changed. Starting off as a person with no real-world experience, his deeds changed people. Gave them hope. The Capital Wasteland proved a cruel inhospitable place, but the Lone Wanderer refused to surrender to the vices that had claimed so many others. The values passed on from father to child – selflessness, compassion, honor – guided his noble soul, and countless others, through the selfishness, greed, and cruelty that so many before surcame to.
The Lone Wanderer, or Miles for how many he walked, now resides in his new home of Megaton, waiting for when he will be needed once again. But heroism is like war - and war never changes.
Fallout EDEN
Día de los Muertos, also known as Day of the Dead. This holiday is mostly celebrated in El Darado, but do to the large hispanic population in the Capital it soon became a national holiday. The reining form of government, The Brotherhood of Steel, saw this holiday as a good chance to remember friends and family members who have died when the Capital was a wasteland.
Traditions connected with the holiday include building private altars honoring the deceased using sugar skulls, marigolds, and the favorite foods and beverages of the departed and visiting graves with these as gifts.
The parties that are thrown during the week, stretch throughout the East cost Brotherhood territories. From the rebuilding White house and Capital building, to the swamp lands of the rebuilt Lookout Point, as far north as Ronto and even as far west to Memphis.
It's a big holiday, even bigger than Christmas, and this is the time for small starting businesses to get their voices heard. Only problem is, with all this light there is always a dark. They mostly consist of remnants of the Raiders, Slavers, and Enclave. Their weapons are out of date and they usually do smash and grab jobs instead of trying to duke it out.
This is where the security faction comes in. They are called the Lyons' Pride, and they are more than well known by people - even for those outside of the Capital lands. led by Sentinel Sarah Lyons, the daughter of Elder Lyons, leader of the East Coast Brotherhood, is an elite unit of the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel.
The squad's members are equipped with rifles, heavy weapons and power armor. The Pride functions as the Brotherhood's mobile shock troops, reinforcing points against concerted or sustained super mutant attack, and spearheading raids into the former Super Mutant-held territory.
Their members go like this:
Sarah Lyon, the leader. She's headstrong and as tough as nails, not even a shock from a radiation spike could slow her down for long.
Knight Captain Colvin Jon, first sniper. He's friendly and always wishes Gods best for anyone he considers to be a friend. But piss him, and he'll personally send you to God with a fifty caliber bullet hole in your head.
Knight Captain Asa Dusk, second sniper. She has a hatred of the Super-Mutants after watching her father eaten and her mother turned into a pleasure slave. Ever since then, she is on a personal vendetta against them. Put any super-mutant bastard within one mile of her and her rifle and, well... pack it up troops. Fight's over.
Knight Captain Irving Gallows, spec ops specialist. A quiet man, but that is because he believes that action speak louder than words.
Paladin Glade, heavy weapons expert. oldest member of the Lyons' Pride, and is their technician and smith. He's still kicking himself for all of the Caps he lost during his little bet.
Paladin Greg "Kodiak" Bear, the chameleon. Kodiak is their "jack of all trades" not specializing in any one area, but doing a bit of everything: recon, demolition, and tactical assault.
Knight Miles Wolfwood, the member with so much black ink on his file. He is a camouflage-wearing, hand-to-hand fighter from Vault 101. He wears gauntlets on his wrists called tekkō that according to him can deflect any attack, even bullets. He wears them to compensate for the fact that he cannot take damage well. Miles is skilled in Mauri kickboxing and is mixed with other forms of his own.
In the city of Megaton, Kodiak knocked on the metal door of a two story apartment. A young man, with dark-brown spiky hair, answered the door. Just the sight of him made Kodiak fall backwards.
"Hey, Kodiak, what's up?" Miles asked as his face was painted like a skull. It was black around his eyes, on his nose and made outlines of the teeth, jaw and chin. The white paint covered everything else.
"What are you wearing?"
"It's day of the dead, dude. It's festive." Miles let his friend in and offered him some puriffied water. Miles's pet, Dogmeat was sleeping on the second level and had Miles's poncho and sombrero on.
The door to his armory was locked in chains and had the words scratched on saying, Keep Out! The rest of his apartment was filled with Day of the Dead decoration, which covered up his normal Wasteland decor. Everything seemed normal, except for Miles.
"You alright, bud?" Kodiak asked.
"Fine," He said as he grabbed his hat and poncho off of Dogmeat. Waking him in the process. "Sorry buddy, I'm just running late!"
"Late for what?" Kodiak asked.
"I got a date with Sarah, and I want this one to be special." Miles rushed down the stairs and tossed Kodiak his keys. "Maria should be over soon to help you out. Wadsworth is still recharging, unplug him if you two need help."
"Can do." Kodiak said as Dogmeat stood guard at the table to make sure Kodiak would not eat all of the food before the night was over.
The sound of bells and whistles filled the empty streets and the children's laughter reached the ears of the skeleton gunman that was Miles Wolfwood. He turned around to see a group of children dressed in costumes. A witch, a skeleton and a wizard, none of them older than nine for the look of it.
There were singing and fireworks going off. People paying respects to lost loved ones and some reuniting with other lovers. Hard to believe that this was the first night. Miles sat down on the couch, outside of the Moriarty's Saloon, and waited with his head down and eyes cloths. His breath was barely showing life, and any passer-by's could have sworn that he was a decoration.
A person sat next to him on the couch, a woman for that fact. Her hair was tied back into a messy pony-tail, and her clothes looked like a female rancher from a Spaghetti Western. A tomboyish look, but it did show off her womanly assets. It was at that time Miles came to life. Throwing his poncho over her, Sarah found herself in Miles's embrace.
"You're late," He said as he kissed her on the back of her neck.
"And you're still a jackass." She laughed.
The sound of music started to fill the air. They were closer now to the main street of Three-Ton, where the annual Day of the Dead Festival was taking place. Then Miles stopped. Across the street, there was a small park, filled with trees.
Sarah looked for incoming traffic, then she dashed to the park with Miles behind him. She stopped in front of an arrangement of flowers. Orange and yellow flowers were carefully placed on the floor, forming a yellow cross in a orange square. Several candles and veladoras were placed inside of the arrangement, their lights burning brightly.
In the middle of the arrangement there was a cloth covered table with several foods. Fruits, bread, pumpkin candy, even a small glass of tequila. And in the middle of the table, a black and white picture of an aged man.
"You now this man?" She asked.
"Yah, his name was Robert. Good man, but couldn't hold his liquor."
"Did you pay respects to your parents yet?" She asked.
"Not yet." Miles said. "I usually wait until the second or third day for that. What about you and your mother?"
She looked away, and seemed saddened. "Hey! Come on! It's a party! Lighten up!"
Miles's attempt to cheer her up was enough to make her smile. So the went down Two Ton street to see who was selling what.
Now Megaton has a no Iron policy. Meaning all fire arms are mandated to be turned over at the front grate before entering. But, then again, laws are always broken.
A hooded man walked unnoticed among the crowd in the Day of the Dead Festival. People with stranger costumes surrounded him. He pulled a concealed silenced ten millimeter pistol from the holster and kept it hidden under the cloak. He watched Sarah from a far. She was looking at the different blown glass sculptures that came from Memphis and Atlanta. He eased his finger on the trigger, but pulled it off when Miles called for her.
Sarah found her boyfriend over at a stand that was selling the new books that were coming out this year. She saw Miles looking at a comic book, but was reading it backwards for some reason.
"What are you reading?" She asked.
"It's called a Manga." Miles said. "They're Japanese comics. But you read them right to left for some reason."
A load whistler firework shout out into the air, creating a symphony of ear-piercing enjoyment. But call it luck, or experience from being out in the wasteland for so long, Miles grabbed a hold of Sarah and threw themselves to the ground as several bullets flew over them.
People started to scatter and scream, making a perfect get away for the figure in the hooded cloak. Sarah and Miles were in hot pursuit with a M90 of her own and a trench knife for Miles. They split up do to the massive crowds, and soon enough the assassign found himself no longer with pursewers... until Miles grabbed him and pulled him into one of the few dark and empty ally-ways.
"The Devil still walks among us. Right, Mister Burke?"
Allstair Tenpenny's personal right-hand man smiled like a fox as his face was covered with dirt, grime, and radiation zits. Guess nature has not been good to him after the Tenpenny Tower raid.
"I could say the same about you, Red Gauntlet." He spat.
"Sarah, get a hold of Lucas. Tell him that his favorite prisoner is missing."
"I can see that you have the Oiran of Tenpenny as your personal dog now? And you said I was digustin-"
Sarah punched Burke in the mouth, causing him to lose a couple of teeth. "Go ahead and call your damn police... I'll be welcomed back like a hero!"
"Maybe," Miles threw Burke to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. "Personally, I've never had much time for heroes."
Burke, with his abdomen throbbing in pain, uncurled himself and grabbed a hold of his M90 and aimed it for the back of Sarah's head. Miles, seeing this, pushed Sarah out of the way and took the bullet. Sarah, out of pure rage, shot the gun out of Burke's hand and beaten him until he passed out.
Miles was still half asleep, but the part that was half awake could feel a throbbing dull pain in his shoulder and ending somewhere in his lower back.
The bullet did not go all the way through. Caused by his adamantium skeleton, the bullet ricochet off his shoulder blade and bounced around within his body, and made an exit somewhere else. He was lucky that everything checked out in working order, let alone be alive. He then felt another pressure on his chest. This one, he did not mind to much.
"... Wait. ... Sarah, your elbow is in my ribs," Miles grunted. Giggling, Sarah shifted from lying on her side to lying on her back, allowing him to hover over her. "There. Much better."
"Injury report, soldier," she joked, tugging at his ear.
"Critical. Probable internal bleeding. High chance of fatality," he mocked, "I'd give me a couple of minutes at the most."
"I'll give you a couple of hours at the most," retorted Sarah and pulled Miles down to her by the neck, covering his mouth with her own before he was able to protest.
The kiss was short, but it was quickly replaced with slower, deeper ones. Their hands eventually found their individual ways underneath each other's shirts; Sarah traced her fingers along the pronounced lines his muscles made on his chest as Miles caressed the curve of her body, right above the hip. Miles pulled back. Sarah smiled at him.
"What?" he asked. He couldn't help but smile back.
"Do you have any idea how fortunate you are, you lucky bastard?"
"You mean how many guys I had to contend with for you? Well from what I've seen they're all too shy to even try anything. They don't want to upset your dad, for fear of having their heads torn off. And let's be honest, I'm more fearless then any of them and I know how to defend myself on my own, so…" he trailed off.
"I meant how lucky you are to be alive, stupid," Sarah interjected.
"I knew what you meant," he said, his smile replaced with a serious expression, "And yeah, I know." Her mention of his newest near-est death experience clearly depressed him.
Besides the fact his body was a patchwork of scars, chunks of missing flesh supported by metal mesh at times, stitch marks, and an auto-mated right arm. He was also scarred mentally, caused by the radiation spike and the tortures he received by the Enclave during Operation: BROKEN STEEL. He was in a comma for half a year after he was rescued, he was unresponsive but stable. This gave people enough hope for the Brotherhood to start the rebuilding. After he woke up though,... the expression of a little on edge, was an understatement. He would be quiet for months at a time, and then he would lash out as people even if they sneezed the wrong direction. The only thing that would calm him was Sarah, and a whole lot of lovin.
Sarah frowned and kissed him once to apologize, and the vicious cycle of passion began again. She tugged at his ragged-bloody shirt and he permitted her to slide it over his head. His mouth then moved to her pale neck. Miles was patient and continued exploring with his lips and tongue until he found a spot that caused a small, involuntary gasp to escape her throat. Then he attacked it, sucking and biting. Miles pulled up her shirt to expose her toned stomach, then even further up to her breasts, caressing them through the bra. Sarah could only lay there, reassuring him he was doing a good job by squeezing his arms. It felt so good, but he was taking so long. Sarah responded to his advances by grabbing the bulge in his pants, lovingly (more or less). He sharply exhaled, looking up to face her. That got his attention. The two brown-eyed lovers locked gazes, wild and bright ideas hidden beneath the surface. They both knew what they wanted. Arms and legs flailed in a mad rush to get the other's clothes off. Fortunately, neither one was hurt in the flurry of festive articles of clothing.
Miles kept his position above her, moving down to kiss her now naked breasts, playing at a nipple with his tongue, his hands discovering the rest of her body. Sarah sighed and closed her eyes, letting him do what he wished without resisting. The sensations made her squirm, and Miles absolutely loved it. Sarah soon got tired of this game. It was time to teach him a lesson. She stealthily reached down between their legs and began to rub his cock, much to his surprise, but Miles didn't move to stop her. He met her mouth again, cupping her jaw in the palm of his hand, and gave her one last kiss before he froze, panting, silently asking permission. Sarah held the back of his neck and braced herself.
"Come and get me lover boy," she breathed into his ear.
Miles obeyed, entering her a moment later. Sarah cried out, burying her face into his shoulder. Miles held her against him, stroking her back and kissing her forehead to make sure she was okay before he continued. He rocked slowly and gently at first, to let her adjust, but he quickly picked up the pace. Sarah moaned and moved her hips with him, as Miles grunted and thrust against her. They relied on instinct more than knowledge; neither one was very sexually practiced. To them, if it felt good, they were doing it right.
She and Miles stole kisses in the midst of the activity every so often. Their breathing became labored, as Miles got deeper and used more force. Sweat started beading on their brows and on his chest. The pressure was building; she closed her eyes and held the back of his head, clenching a fistful of his hair. She was close. So was he. Miles started to make even more unintentional noises into her shoulder. Another eternity passed. It was Sarah who was the first to finish and scream out into the night, followed shortly by Miles's low roar. He stopped and rested, pulling his head up to face her.
Sarah was unsure how long they had been going at it. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? She didn't care - she wasn't done yet. She pushed on hard his chest and shoulder and somehow was able to get Miles on his back. Still joined at the abdomen, Sarah took over the responsibility of being on top. They moved on his erection at a new, slower rate together, which was dictated by her. It was agonizing to him, she could tell. Good, she thought and smirked. He cast a knowing grin up at her, then grabbed at her hips and moved his own along with hers. Flexible as she was, Sarah leaned forward and found his lips. This time, it was Miles who came first, throwing his head back and curving his spine as he gave in to the sensations of orgasm. Sarah even managed to get a squeak out of him. That was adorable.
They both were spent. Sarah dismounted and lay onto her back once more. Miles rolled over on his side and continued their kissing, his hand cupping her cheek and hers roaming over his back. She felt the spray of small scars across his shoulder, caused by a super mutant brute's submachine gun that was emptied at him in the heart of D.C. That was the very first time Sarah saw him. She and the Pride neutralized the super mutant threat quickly, found Miles and dressed his wounds. If Sarah and Miles had never met, it was almost guaranteed he would be dead, many times over. A single chance encounter in the Capital Wasteland had led to such a strong friendship between them, and now a relationship.
Miles was a different person then. Now, he was a living legend. The lone wanderer who saved the desolate, unforgiving wasteland - despite everything he had seen and experienced - because he felt that humanity was still worth saving. His tale would be passed down for generations, no doubt. She wasn't sure if she should hate or be fond of the scars. They were a reminder of the time they first met – a grim reminder – but a reminder nonetheless.
The two made out until they were both completely out of breath and left exhausted by one another. "Sarah," he whispered.
"Hm?"
He tilted his head and looked straight into her eyes. "I love you," he admitted strongly, his voice unwavering, "You know that, right?"
"I know, Miles. I don't know where'd I would be if I had lost you. I mean I'd be lost- I'd-" she stuttered, trying to find the right words.
"Shh. I know," He kissed her, then slid down her body, resting his head on her stomach. He laid with an arm draped around her hips, hugging her lower waist like he was holding on for dear life. His other hand Sarah held in her own. In no time, Miles fell asleep, cradling his lover in his arms. His breathing was slow, measured and calming. Sarah ran her fingers through his deep brown hair. It was warm and soft and wonderful to the touch.
"I love you too," she whispered before surrendering her consciousness to the hazy confines of slumber.
